Puntifications!
by Creepy
Summary: The horribly messed up Clan Punt goes out to make a name for itself! But with a perverted Sage, an insane dragoon, and a wannabe ninja, what kind of name will that be? Behold Chapter 3, a lovely romp through the sewers!
1. Punt Combo

First off, allow me to introduce myself. I am Kara Steinburg, member of Clan Punt. Mogri, the clan's co-founder and quasi-leader asked me to write out the introduction to our clan journal. He says that I'm the closest thing he could have to a honest, fair writer. I don't feel the same, but I owe him so much that I won't complain.  
  
First off, we're small. We only have 5 members, and I'm sure that some people consider us too small to be a clan. Well, unfortunately for them, we've yet to see a law that imposes a minimum number on clans. So we are Clan Punt.  
  
I guess I should list our members. I'll try to be as fair as I can with this:  
  
Mogri Solhma, Moogle Gunner:  
  
Mogri is one of the two founders of Clan Punt, and our leader. He's an excellent gunner, a credit to his race. As a child, Mogri grew up as part of a traveling circus. He's supposed to have been trained as a juggler by his parents. But when I asked him about it, he told me not to press the issue with him. Fair enough. But Malak will talk at length, if you get him drunk enough, and filled me in.  
  
Mogri WAS trained as a juggler, and was one of the best in the circus. But he hated it, and he hated his parents for forcing him into it. He much preferred shooting, and hung out with the trick-shooters all the time. They taught him how to shoot well, and how to do tricks you rarely see on a battlefield, like ricochet shots. But his parents still wanted him to be a juggler. So one day, he just ran away with a mage that had told him about the wonders of the clans. That would be Malak, everyone's favorite pervert.  
  
I know Mogri pretty well. He signed me onto Clan Punt. He's a wonderful leader, and is very good at getting us work and supplies. He never lets someone sneak up behind us when fighting, and always takes dangerous tasks for himself. When good missions are not forthcoming, he always finds us some kind of work.  
  
One time, when we were almost out of money and Malak got arrested, Mogri took us to the pub. He sat us down, and then joined a game of darts. He put all our cash on that game, which scared us all pretty bad. But he won. He always was able to hit the bullseye, or the triple points areas. I could tell he hated every minute of it. I think it reminded him of the juggling he ran away from, but he played. He raised enough money that night to get Malak out and to buy a new gun afterwards. I don't know why, but that seems like a defining moment for me. It showed me how he really was. Willing to do anything for friends, even if he hated it.  
  
If he has one failing, it's that he is a little too obsessed with his guns. Don't ever ask him about one. You will never shut him up. Trust me, I've tried.  
  
Malak, Nu Mou Sage:  
  
Malak is the other founder of Clan Punt. He helped Mogri get out into the world, to shoot things to his heart's content. To hear Mogri talk about the old mage, you'd think he has a heart of gold. I disagree. He is a dirty old man, and I completely despise him.  
  
I don't know what he did before he met Mogri. I've never even heard his full name, unless Malak is his full name. He's got more magic in him then anyone I've met, but how he learned his trade or anything else, I don't know. I do know that he is really, really old. He's healthy as an ox, though. He runs fast, too. But that's probably because I'm the one chasing him. Most importantly, he knows almost any Sage, Black, or White magic you could ask about. I'm pretty sure he knows a little of illusionary magic too, but I haven't seen him use it much.  
  
Honestly though, I've never met a bigger pervert. He constantly stares at inappropriate areas. He makes comments that would embarrass a bar wench. And given half a chance, he will reach out and grab a handful. How the old pervert somehow gets by without someone killing him on a daily basis. He doesn't grab me as much as he did in the beginning, thank lord. But hitting him with Last Breath three or four times is a wonderful way to get the point across. No touching.  
  
Kara Steinburg, Viera Assassin:  
  
That's me. I'm an assassin, and have been for quite some time. Ironic thing is, I used to abhor killing and violence.  
  
I used to be a white mage, long time ago. I was pretty good at healing, and my old clan told me that they owe me for saving them many times. Eventually, a petty dispute on how to divide up the spoils we earned caused the clan to break up. I became a freelance healer. It's hard to do that, because of the fact that you have nearly no offensive power, so you can't do missions solo.  
  
So, I made it known that I out looking for a clan. One approached me quickly, but it's not one anybody would be proud to be part of. A soldier from Clan Borzoi made overtures toward me, vaguely hinting at bad things happening if I refused. I refused anyway. A few nights later, a black mage and a team of warriors grabbed me, and dragged me out into the middle of nowhere. The black mage said several things, mentioning that Borzoi was part of something bigger. After that, he asked me to join again. I still refused. So he stabbed me in the throat. I passed out from the pain, and they left me there to die.  
  
I survived. I woke up bleeding badly, but I was able to stumble along into the path of a larger, more legal clan. They kindly fixed me up as best they could. I was told that I was lucky that nobody took the knife out of my throat, or I'd have bled to death in minutes. Unfortunately, my voice box was irreparable. I'll never talk, or cast spells, again. I'm a true mute.  
  
I've trained in the assassin's arts ever sense. When I signed onto Clan Punt, Mogri promised that we'll sign onto any jobs that can hurt Clan Borzoi, or anyone helping it. I'm going to find that coward of a black mage, and I'm going to tear out his voice. Just like he did to me.  
  
Zahn Volsang, Bangaa Dragoon:  
  
Zahn is almost like two warriors in one. No doubt that he's our strongest member. Most of the time, he's a sweet, caring person. I like him a lot..... And he's a warrior born. He knows more about classical battle tactics and the art of war than anyone I know. He's also one to let the ones who can't fight, like white mages or disabled warriors, run away without chasing them.  
  
But Fate struck him a cruel blow. Zahn has a strange insanity. At times, he changes from the loving, kind mountain bangaa to an unstoppable killing machine. He just goes insane, attacking anything nearby. He can normally tell a day or two in advance when one of his episodes are coming around, so when he gets the feeling, he marches off into the forest, or mountains. Somewhere he can be alone. A few days later, he comes back, usually unhurt, but oftentimes needing to clean the blood off his armour.  
  
I don't know exactly what's wrong with him. Malak calls him a schizophrenic, whatever that means. I don't think that he means it as an insult, because Malak is the one that hired him. But I hope that we can help cure him, somehow. Such a gentle giant doesn't deserver a curse like that.  
  
A side note about him. His accent isn't the usual bangaa hiss. It is more of a deep rumble. It's very soothing, and sounds more noble that other bangaa. He still hisses, but it's not so pronounced.  
  
Ninji, Human Ninja:  
  
I feel sorry for Ninji. He has no luck, no skill, and gets no respect. Mogri hired him because, at the time, we were desperate for new blood. We needed someone to help out when Zahn was off on one of his bezerker episodes. We got ripped off.  
  
Ninji says he is a ninja. He's more of a ninja wanna-be. He can't properly use the abilities. He can't sneak worth anything. He actually said "Zoom!" while trying to sneak up on Malak one time. It's just sad.  
  
Here's a better example of his lack of skill. In a battle near Cyril, we had a NoDam2: Human law in effect that day. Lucky us, Ninji is a human, and all our opponents were bangaa. So Mogri tells Ninji to get in there and do some damage. Ninji loves the idea. He rushes forward, and uses Metal Veil. It actually blows up in his face. He takes damage from his own attack, and the judge sends him to prison. The judge sounded embarrassed to do it, too. After we narrowly won the engagement, the judge asked us about him. We told him about Ninji's..... stupidity issues. The nice judge gave us the gil to post bail for him. He felt sorry for the boy, too.  
  
Strange thing is that Ninji has mastered only one ninja skill properly, but it's the good one. He can use two weapons. Now, if he could do something useful like hit the enemy with them, that'd be great. But for now, just feel sorry for him. Poor helpless, clueless Ninji.  
  
I've written my peace. I hope that this is a useful start to our journal. Mogri will start writing records of our engagements in it, so it better be interesting. Who knows, maybe we will be famous one day and this will be worth good gil.  
  
Yeah, and maybe Ninji will be able to sneak up on me.  
  
~Kara Steinburg 


	2. Drain

Okay, we were dead broke. I'm not talking about "Tighten the belts, we're gonna ration our supplies" broke. I mean "We can't afford a room or food or even BULLETS" broke. Mogri had a shitfit when I told him that. Okay, he couldn't care less about the room or food. He figured we'd be fine sleeping in an alley or something. But when I told him he couldn't even by a round for his guns, he went absolutely ballistic. 

I think the lack of funds bothers me the most. Mogri is the "senior partner" in our little clan, meaning he gets 60 of the profits. I, being the humble sage that stays behind a wall and nukes things with magic, get a princely 40. That's after we've done things like buying supplies and paying Kara, Zahn, and Ninji their salaries.

But I digress. You'll find I do that alot more than our little bunny beauty, Kara. I'm old, I tend to do that. But as I was saying, Mogri had a fit. He went right to the bartender and asked about a mission, making sure to announce as embarrassing loud as possible that we had no money at all and would take anything anyone offered. Anything at all.

That boy needs to learn about the subtle art of negotiation, particularly the part about not making us look desperate.

So this shady fellow comes up. You all know the type. Dark cloak, face shrouded in shadows, the kinda thing out of a cheesy fan-story written by a guy that has no idea what he's doing. Tall, dark and fugly just oozed with cliché, talking about a client who didn't want to be known and how the mission had to remain secret to anyone outside our clan and how we'd be abandoned if captured and yadda-yadda-yadda. It was almost too funny. He also promised lots of cash, so naturally he can dress and act as he damn well pleases and I'll praise him for it. Well, not praise, but I won't make fun of him. Okay, maybe a little.

... Okay, the guy was looked like a jackass and no amount of money will make me take him seriously or prevent me from giggling openly anytime he starts talking like one of those wackos that think there's a Judge Conspiracy. Happy?

So our shadowy stranger takes Mogri and me to a private room at the inn he was staying at. We left the peanut gallery at the pub, as they're hired help, not official decision makers for the clan. And Mr. Cloaked gave us the stupidest mission I'd ever heard of.

The bastard wanted sewer ooze. I really wish I was joking.

This jackass came to us, acted like he was going to ask us to kill Babus Swain or something, promised us something worthwhile, and then told us it was our job to go mucking around in a smelly pit under a heavily populated city looking for oozy crap-pudding. And not just ANY crap-pudding, oh no, it was special. He was very specific about what could and could not be in the stuff, how sticky it had to be, and all sorts of other details that made me absolutely ill. No way in hell we'd do this. Then he told us that the pay was 50,000 gil up front and promised that his client would have more missions for us.

For 50,000 gil, I'd eat the crap-pudding and ask for seconds.

We now have 4 days to search the sewers of Sprohm for a funky bit of ooze. We've already chowed down for the night, and bought what have better be some damn good water-tight boots. The rest of the crew are already sleeping, resting up for tomorrow, which cannot possibly be a pleasant day. At all, ever. I hope this journal thing doesn't get mucked up.

See you in the sewers.  
Malak


	3. Blindshot

Our mission is accomplished, and we're no longer broke. However, I am never, ever announcing that we are desperate for work to the public ever again. This job was absolutely shitty, and anyone that points out that I just made a pun will be summarily shot. 

As I'm sure Malak wrote days ago, the objective was to go into the sewers of Sprohm and search for a specific kind of ooze. We were given equipment to test if it was sticky enough, thick enough, and had a particular smell. My partner looked ill after the description of the target muck, but it didn't seem that bad to me at the time. This only goes to show how ignorant I become when I don't have bullets. And from now on, when Malak gets queasy, I'll trust his gut over mine.

The day of the search, we were up bright and early, and headed into the sewage system through a large drainage pipe at the edge of Sprohm. We were still thinking that this wouldn't be too hard an may even be a break from the usual combat missions and clan ambushes we usually end up as part of. Ninji was the only one that seemed unhappy that we were heading into a smelly sewer. In retrospect, this is one of the few times we should have taken him seriously. We marched in with pep in our step and a song on our lips. Well, not Kara, obviously.

On that note, Malak is no longer allowed to sing about Veira wenches or his favorite parts of them.

The sewer was cold, dark, and smelled like an unwashed Bangaa. And then there's the whole part where we were wading through raw sewage, and taking samples of anything that looked disgusting and sticky. But we weren't complaining yet, because it was still far easier than trying to outfight bandits, outsmart hungry monsters, or scrape ourselves out of being ambushed by another Clan. It wasn't as easy as I'd thought it would be, but it wasn't horrible either. Not yet, anyway. That situation changed quickly, though, because apparently God hates people being content in a sewer.

The pipe suddenly got tiny, too small to stand in. Almost too small to crawl in. We had to get down on our stomachs and crawl through that sludge, with our faces maybe an inch above the surface. I think it would be a safe bet that we were no longer happy about this 'easy' mission, but that apparently wasn't good enough. It's a sewer, and that means we're supposed to be absolutely miserable, not just unhappy. So, as soon as we got out of the tiny pipe, we had a whole other problem.

Ice flans had apparently made this section of the sewer into a cozy nest. Maybe they liked the smell of methane, or the easy access to vast amounts of human waste. Whatever it was, they liked it enough to hate the idea of us being near it. We engaged in a fight, so a judge appeared. That judge had to have the absolute worst luck to be the one playing referee for a fight in the sewers.

However, for us, this a large problem. Only magic is particularly effective against Flan. However, we don't exactly cart around a gaggle of mages. We only have Malak. And while he has more power than a gaggle of mages, he's only one Sage. The rest of us were far less effective. I shoot things, Zahn and Kara stab things, and Ninji dies. Those finely honed skills don't strike me as very magical.

Of course, we still weren't miserable enough. It's just an engagement, we can handle it. But Ninji, being the bright young human he is, fixed our problem. Realizing that Ice Flan wouldn't like fire, he used Fire Veil. The rest of us screamed in terror. Well, not Kara, obviously.

If one can't figure out why, let me give a hint. Methane is explosive.

To his credit, all the Flan were dead. We were only very nearly killed. Ninji himself will be wearing his ninja garbs at all times while he waits for his hair to grow back. And the judge said his hearing should come back in a day or two.

There's a bright side to all of this, though. Now that we were covered head-to-toe in rancid crap and bits of Flan, half-dead from a methane explosion, pissed at Ninji for nearly killing us, and even more pissed at Yours Truly for taking this literal crapfest of a mission, we were more than miserable enough to appease the higher powers that we previously offended. Inspecting the piles of muck that littered the room, we found the sewer ooze that very nearly matched what we were sent for.

Good enough for me. We bottled the disgusting stuff, and started to leave. Then Zahn, who is now everyone's bestest friend ever, pointed at a manhole on the ceiling. Right above the convenient ladder built into the wall. I mentioned that we should have come in that way.

Everyone else gave me nasty glares. I can't imagine why.

Mission accomplished.  
Mogri Solhma

Note to self:  
When the group is arguing who gets the first bath, Kara always wins. Always.


End file.
